So follow me, I'll be your river
by BeatingHeartandWings
Summary: Castiel is an angry and vengeful river spirit, he drowns the fools and punishes the wicked. And who should be his next victim? One Dean Winchester. So why is it that Castiel cannot kill him?
1. So follow me, I'll be your river

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They aren't mine but damn if they were, the things I would do to them... **

**A/N: This first chapter is kind of a downer. Sorry. It's one big angst-fest. **

Castiel never tires of this. The fluidity of what you could call his hands wrap around the inebriated male's neck. And Castiel twists hard, the same way some of the women used to wring out their clothes after washing them the riverside. _His _riverside. The drunken man sinks into the river, dead. The only sign the man was ever there was from the reverberating ripples in the clear blue water and the smell of sour grapes.

You see, Castiel is a river spirit, or God if you prefer. The river he is hosted in is located in Lawrence, Kansas, but Castiel has been there long before it had that name. He was an Angel of the Lord, a foot soldier but still an angel nonetheless. Several centuries ago whilst inhabiting a vessel, he was fighting in a battle against the children of hell and Castiel was trapped in holy fire, but yet his iridescent and intangible wings were outside the circle instead and throughout his entire existence Castiel has never felt more pain and anguish than he felt in those moments. His wings existed on a different realm, in spiritual form they were grace and on a physical form they were just the shadows of his grace. Feathers. It was not just his wings that were burning from the fire, it was his entire being; his grace, tortured and scorched and scalded, but through some miracle he fled as quickly as he could, faster than light, sound, faith. His wings were still blazing as he passed through dimensions and realities, through different planes of existence until he reached a river to try and extinguish the holy flames on his grace.

His grace was still damaged, almost like a loose thread on a piece of cloth and Castiel was unravelling, coming apart at the seams. The second his grace hit the dark murky water it was enough to douse the fire but still his grace latched on to the river. It was a life source, for sea creatures and humans and plants; there could be nothing purer that his grace could bond with. The muddy waters that came into contact with Castiel's essence turned a glistening sheer blue in the sunlight and the wilting reeds turned fleshy and green. The fish that swam listlessly with damaged scales turned reflective and gleaming and swam with a passion. The humans that colonized the area used to only use the muddy waters to discard their waste but after Castiel's presence they used it to quench their thirst and to wash their garments. The tribe of people thought that a water spirit had cleansed the waters and they were almost right. Some humans respected the waters whilst others like the drunken man would abuse it. And Castiel had to punish them. Those who would fish quietly or bathe, Castiel would leave alone and those who would be fools he would take for himself.

Castiel co-existed with the river, not like a parasite but similar as to how he inhabited his human vessel, James Novak. Ever since he bonded with the river it became harder and harder for Castiel to maintain a connection with his human vessel until he just left Jimmy Novak's body and just used the water as a vessel instead. When Castiel was the river, where he would control the waters to be still and calm or let the water rage down on the rocks and flood the banks. And yet, he was merciful and but there was wrath, and this made Castiel was the perfect being to reign over the waters.

Castiel has existed for an indefinite amount of time. In fact, you couldn't measure how long he existed with eras and periods, he existed everywhere at once. And throughout the entire time since he linked with the river he has been bitter and vengeful and angry. He blamed the demons who caused him this inane existence and his angelic siblings who let him carry on with it. So he took out his anger on the humans who dare defile _his_ river. In fact, he_ was_ the river.

At first he used to do such plain boring drowning but then Castiel had other ideas. He had gotten creative over the years. He would make the water freezing and let the people die slowly from the cold. He would let the water boil the humans to death and claim them as his. He would grant them mercy for several seconds; let them think they have a chance of escaping before he plunged them back inside the water again. He would make the water thick and slow, like quicksand and let them sink slowly into the depths of the river. He would tip their boats or drag them away from the river bank or let their possessions get lost in his currents. Castiel had killed them all because they deserved it- they go about their lives using the free will his Father gave to them and yet they misuse and manipulate it, so Castiel makes them drown in their sins and shame.

But despite how many people lie sleeping in his riverbed, Castiel has never felt more alone.


	2. Come away to the water

**A/N: Yeah, so I had to research the crap out of the Kansas River, because I live in London. I'm sure I made a lot mistakes... Meh. And this chapter will be in John's, Dean's and Cas's POV. **

**Oh and Cas doesn't have speech marks because...well, he's a river. They don't really talk that much. He has italics for speech. **

**WARNING: angst**

Castiel remembers the first time he had ever met dean Winchester.

_Lawrence, Kansas. 1986_

It was a warm, sunny day in Lawrence and the Winchester family (which had consisted of John and his two sons: three year old Sam and seven year old Dean). They had planned to spend the day near the Kansas River due to the warm, pleasant weather.

John Winchester was a traditional family man and like all traditional fathers there was a rite of passage where they teach their sons how to fish. It had been two years since the death of his wife, Mary in a house fire and John wasn't exactly father of the year to his boys, so he decided some good old fashioned fishing might help to bond with them.

"Hey Dean, d'you want me to teach you how to catch some fish? We could even cook it later?" John asked his eldest son, apprehensive of Dean's reaction. Dean used to be such an exuberant and loud kid. Seriously, everything to him was a hoot and John actually considered using horse tranquilisers to calm him down, but ever since Mary died Dean just seemed to shrink inside a shell. Instead of Dean telling his father what he had done at school he would just stick to Sammy's side and whisper to his younger brother about God knows what. Everything that happened between the father and son just created a bigger strain on their relationship; once John offered Dean some apple pie for dessert and the poor kid burst into tears and refused to talk to his father for days. And then John realized when he lost Mary, he didn't just lose a wife, _he also lost a son._

But now Dean's bright green eyes were shining with joy.

"Yeah, daddy, I wanna catch the fish!" A horrible pang of guilt built up in John's stomach; how bad a father John must have been for him spending some time with his son made Dean's face light up like he'd won the lottery. He realized how much he had neglected his kids these past few years. Well, John was going to try his damn hardest to change that.

He took Dean out on to the edge of the pier with all their fishing gear- whilst Sam was playing behind them with his obnoxiously red ball. The water was nice and calm and he got to have some time with his eldest son. _Today is a good day_ John thought_, and I'll make sure it'll stay that way for the rest of their lives._

He taught Dean how to set up his rod, attach the reel and connect the float. And when Dean threw some bait at his daddy, he was in hysterics, roaring with laughter at the surprised expression on his father's face and John thought that even though he probably had maggots in all of his orifices, it was totally worth it to see his elder son laugh. Even Sammy giggled his little ass off at the sight of his dad.

Two hours and 3 fish later, Dean eventually gave up trying to catch any. He felt unnerved leaving Sammy out of his line of sight, especially near a river so he decided to join him playing catch. John still carried on catching fish, deep in concentration, oblivious to his sons.

They were told by daddy not to go close to the river bank in case they fell in and Sam didn't know how to swim and Dean has just got out of out of using floats.

So by some horrible twist of fate, when Sam threw the ball towards Dean, it went over the older Winchesters head and Dean had stumbled back to try and catch it, but Dean's foot had slipped and Dean had sunk into the depths of the river.

The first thing that registered with Dean was _cold_. His back had hurt from when he slammed into the water with a force hard enough to almost bruise his back. He submerged under the water and he tried to move his arms and legs, like Ms Lewis taught him in his swimming class, but the water was too strong, every time Dean had tried to resurface the water seemed to push him back down. He tried to breathe in air to shout out for Daddy to save him, but he ended up with a lungful of murky water instead; It felt like his lungs were on fire, his throat and nose were burning. It reminded him of the smoke when mommy died, he couldn't breathe then and he couldn't breathe now. He just hoped his daddy would save him like last time.

He looked around, everything was a dark brown, with leaves and various junk floating, and the top of the water seemed so far away now. He couldn't see his daddy anywhere; his limbs were aching from him trying to swim but ultimately getting nowhere. He was cold and hurting and his lungs felt like they were going to burst. He stopped moving then, his eyes shut closed, and everything stopped, his breathing and then his heart.

Castiel was calm today, he didn't have any of his rages towards the living and his emotions were reflected in the way the river travelled smoothly along the currents. He was busy, tracking the way a golden leaf flowed through the stream, until he felt it then, a young boy was drowning in his river. The child would not be the first to drown in these waters and Castiel would be there, waiting for the boy to stop fighting death and let death itself claim him as another prize for Castiel.

He manoeuvred his grace to where the young boy was being engulfed by the water, Castiel saw the boy pushing and kicking for all he was worth, shouting but his screams did not reach the surface. Castiel also felt another male soul who went into the river; probably someone looking for the boy, but the Angel knew the man wouldn't get there in time to save the child. Castiel knew this routine well enough. The boy was still putting up a fight and Castiel was going to leave and let nature take its course. Until the Angel saw the boys soul.

Despite being cut off from heaven, Castiel could still see human souls; they were so powerful that even the most tainted angelic grace will still be able to sense one. It was a person's very essence and core and when Castiel saw the boy's who was called Dean Winchester, it was the most brightest, radiant soul the Angel had ever saw in his entire existence. There was pain and sadness there, but that only was his soul even more beautiful. Castiel felt not worthy to look upon a soul this magnificent, but then Castiel felt a reaper approaching, to take Dean away to heaven, no doubt. How could a soul so pure go anywhere else? But Castiel was possessive of this human essence; he didn't even hesitate to know he was not going to let a minion of death take the child.

So when Castiel approached the boy and his bright beautiful green eyes were looking right at him, and Castiel had felt some strange emotion other than rage or sadness but he could not decide what it was. Humans say that the eyes are the windows to the soul but yet, those green eyes were a magnifying glass for Dean's. They seemed to make his soul shine more brightly, brighter than the sun, or any star in his Fathers universe. And then Castiel knew that he could not bear it if those emerald eyes closed forever.

So he used the water like a geyser, put pressure underneath the human's fragile body and pushed up until Dean hit the surface of the water, and Castiel manoeuvred the streams again until the human hit the edge of the riverbank. He saw the man who must have been Dean's father run up to the boy, and done some sort of medical procedure, to try and clear Deans lungs of the water dean must have inhaled. Castiel was anxious, so he done something that he had not done in a long time. He prayed.

_Please Father, I have accepted that you will not save me, but please have mercy and save Dean Winchester. His soul burns so bright, please do not allow my waters to dim the flames of his spirit._

He then looked across the riverbank where Dean was breathing, _alive. _Cradled in his father's arms. Castiel had never felt more gratitude to his Father then now, now the Angel knew the reason why he was living this mundane existence: _to save Dean Winchester._

The reaper, who was going to take Dean's soul, was closely watching Castiel and gave him a look.

"Saving human's lives are we now, Castiel?"

If a river could have looked offended, Castiel did a good example of it.

_I do save human lives on occasion. The boy was just lucky,_ Castiel lied. He did rescue some humans, those who deserved it or if Castiel wasn't feeling too murderous that day. But Dean was the exception; the Angel saved Dean because Castiel _needed_ to save him.

The reaper did not look convinced. She raised an eyebrow looking sceptical.

"I don't blame you, that kid is something special. But he has a pure soul, and you know that demons like to taint pure things. Letting him live... I think you've done more harm than good Cas." She disappeared then, leaving Castiel to think those words over, but he didn't really care. As long as Dean was safe and alive, that would be enough for now.

So yes, Castiel had remembered the first time he had ever met Dean Winchester, because it was also the first time Castiel had ever fallen in love.

**A/N: I can honestly say that this is definitely my weirdest OTP- A river and a 7 year old boy.**

**I had actually written the last line first. Ugh the amount of times I had edited that sentence. And John is kind of an asshole in this chapter.**


	3. I Move in Water, Shore to Shore

**A/N: Another chapter! I. Am. Exhausted. **

Every day, Castiel waits for Dean Winchester. Even though time is meaningless to him- Angels would only use time as a way to measure humanity or deadlines for duties and tasks- he still believes that Dean should return to the river by now. It has been exactly 22 years, two months and 13 days since he last saw the boy and Castiel yearns to see his soul, his eyes, just _everything _that is Dean Winchester.

It was several days after Castiel's first encounter with Dean when he started to panic.

The angel was on edge. He couldn't relax and it reflected in the state of his river; first the river would flood the banks, then be still and calm, he didn't clean the waters and just let anybody throw anything into the water without even caring because Castiel's mind was elsewhere. He was thinking of Dean- Is _he safe? Does his father truly care for his well being? Will his brother take advantage of Dean's caring nature?_ Castiel needed to be reassured that Dean was safe and without his Angel to protect him, anything could happen to the Winchester boy.

Castiel thought of leaving the river to be with Dean but how could he? The river is his life source. He knew of angels detaching themselves from their grace and living on Earth as a human, but for Castiel it was different. The Angel was on the verge of death, and the last remnant of his grace that is in the river is keeping his consciousness alive. If Castiel left the river forever, he does know what would happen; he may die or he may live. But the Angel would rather wait for all eternity in case Dean returned to him, than to risk leaving the river and die without seeing Dean ever again.

The Angel found had a solution to the problem that was plaguing him- He summoned the reaper he had met that fateful day - she had called herself Tessa, and in her human form had short brown hair with hazel eyes, although, Castiel thought, they were not a beautiful shade of green like Dean's. The angel had asked the reaper to watch over Dean as he could not and so, Tessa agreed and she had protected Dean and his younger brother from a shritiga as well as a vengeful spirit in their school. Castiel could not have been more thankful to the reaper for what she had done for him and Dean. Tessa, who deals with death on a daily basis, seems fond of the Winchester boy; her usually stern features soften into something of affection whenever she tells Castiel amusing anecdotes about Dean that she found endearing. And so, Tessa and Castiel came to be sort-of-friends, or about as close to friendship as you can get between a reaper and a river.

The Angel loves hearing what Tessa tells him about Dean and the urge to see him is overwhelming. Not that Castiel wasn't grateful for what Tessa has done, which he was, it was just that every time he hears about how Dean he always felt a pang of longing and was reminded of what he couldn't have but so desperately needed. Castiel knew that despite everything Tessa is doing for him, it will never be enough.

...

_Lawrence, Kansas 1986 _

Several weeks after "the accident", Dean finally thought it would be safe to have a bath. He had been skittish to even set foot near the bath tub even when he was peeing. His daddy had told him many times that he would be safe but Dean couldn't shake the feeling that something, _someone_ was following him. When he was in the water that day, he had a feeling that somebody was there and helped him out. His dad said that he must have swum to the edge of the riverbank but Dean wasn't an idiot. He knew that he didn't get out of the water by himself and he swore that he saw a pretty lady in the water coming towards him. Maybe she saved him but Dean really hoped she was okay- He didn't want her to get hurt because of him. When Dean told his daddy about the lady, he said there was no one who came in or out the water. Everybody kept saying he must have imagined what happened and this frustrated the Winchester boy. _Why won't anyone listen to me?_

So here Dean Winchester sat, butt-naked, in the bath tub and has yet to fill it with water as he tried to assure himself that the water wouldn't hurt him. _I can do this… I can do this... _Dean repeated over and over again like a mantra. Two years ago he carried his baby brother out of his blazing house and now he's scared of a little bit of water. _Stop being such a girl Dean…_

He kept telling himself encouragement and taunts for several minutes and when he still didn't move to turn the faucet on, tears started to spill down his face. He failed his daddy and Sammy. He was the worst son ever. Dean had to be brave for his father and baby brother and he failed them. Just like he failed his mother.

...

_Lawrence, Kansas 2008 _

A beer bottle. This is what angers Castiel the most. Someone has thrown a beer bottle into his river. He can feel the smooth glass break the surface of his still waters and the bottle sinks to the bottom easily. Other people are now throwing their drinks into the water and the water is retaliating by spraying them with small droplets. These humans are celebrating. Many people would come down by the river for social gatherings in a drunken haze and sometimes Castiel would claim their lives. They poisoned his waters so he would snap their necks. But that was before he had met Dean Winchester. Now Castiel would try to keep the deaths to a minimum as he didn't want to scare the boy away in case he decided to return. It was difficult to refrain, but for Dean, Castiel would do anything. He doubts that Dean will return to him and with every passing day he feels like he's losing his connection with the human.

Tessa told Castiel that Dean is a mechanic at a local auto-shop in Lawrence and loves apple pie and double bacon cheeseburgers. He also has a strained relationship with his father- years of neglect and abandonment severed their father-son bond. Apparently, it seemed more like a relationship between a general and his soldier. Dean's younger brother Sam, has left for a prestigious college in Palo Alto and Dean is fiercely protective of Sam- he loves him more than anything and not knowing how he was everyday always unnerved him. This reminded Castiel of his relationship between him and Dean. And despite the lack of information he was told about Dean, Castiel felt as if he knew him better than anybody else.

Now, the drunken people were hurling shoes and various objects into Castiel's river. He decided to mildly douse them, in order to get them to leave. He manipulated the waters into a sphere shape, and as if throwing a ball, aimed and hit the humans. There were shrieks and Castiel was mildly amused. He knew he was supposed to love all his Father's creations, but sometimes they lacked basic intelligence and he was surprised some of them have came this far. Drenching the human's worked, for the most part, yet some people still stayed. They were still celebrating along the riverbank and Castiel was just seconds away from hurling scalding water at them when he stopped. Something got his attention and he had to double-check to see if he was looking properly. There, sodden, shivering and looking absolutely miserable, was Dean Winchester.

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of Dean/Cas in this but they will both interact in the next chapter. **


	4. Our Love is a Star

**A/N: I just watched Eurovision. (If you don't know what it is, ask someone from Europe. They will respond with a large amount of feels.) I feel as if Britain tries their hardest to lose. Every. Single. Year.**

**Anyway, here is the next chapter. **

**Warnings: Rape, Language, Mild Blood Play.**

Dean Winchester. It had been 20 years since Castiel had last saw him, yet he could tell it was him in a heartbeat. His soul, his beautiful magnificent soul, seemed to blaze and burn brighter than when he was a boy. And there he was, completely and utterly drunk. Castiel felt sadness and disappointment for his human; his soul was much to pure to be sullied by such inane devices and the Angel could not stop the swirl of guilt that arose in him for letting that happen to Dean. He saw Dean interact with another human and when Castiel saw this human's soul, for the first time in Castiel's entire existence, he felt something that could only be described as absolute _terror._

The male that was with Dean, his name was Alastair and his soul was the most malevolent and twisted soul the Angel had ever seen. Even the children of hell had souls that were not as spiteful. Dean's soul, as damaged as it was, was like a star at the peak of its existence: beautiful, blinding and vividly intense. Even to have the honor of looking upon it would make the most faithless Angel believe again. Alastair's soul was like a black hole. A dying star. Imploding and collapsing, capturing any light and taking it for its own. Including Dean's light.

Castiel panicked and so did the river. The conversation between Dean and Alastair was turning violent. If Castiel had a heart it would have stopped, as Alastiar somehow managed to hold Dean down and Dean was screaming such heart-wrenching cries of protest. The Angel has never felt more mundane until now; his one and only love, tortured and abused in front of him. _Where was Tessa? _He needed the reaper more than anything right now yet she wasn't anywhere to be seen. Castiel had to do something so he started violently flooding the banks and throwing water and the one who dared harm Dean, but the Angel's attacks were pointless and done nothing to stop the actions of Alastair. He pinned Dean down and was trying to rid Dean of his clothes. Castiel may be an Angel but he knew of such vile things that humans done to achieve sexual pleasure. Castiel would _not _let him harm Dean. Castiel would die before he let that happen. And when Castiel saw his Dean, so vulnerable and in pain, it broke something in Castiel. His being felt raw and strung-out and then it was as if something shifted in Castiel. Then, when he had realized what had happened, he acted.

...

Dean was uncomfortable. Here he was, at a friend's party on a riverbank yet he was desolate and gave the stink-eye to anyone who tried to approach him. Dean isn't usually the most social butterfly but today he seemed about as friendly as a feral pit bull. It had been about 20 odd years since he had last been here, at the river and he didn't exactly have the best time. He almost drowned in the river when he was seven and that day had scarred him permanently: he avoided the water and skipped on trips to the pool and beach and even though he became ridiculed by his classmates, Dean could never tell them the truth. He couldn't tell anyone anything; they never listened when he was younger, he opened his heart about it, for the first time since his mom died and his father brushed it off as if it was nothing and it crushed Dean. Even though he was so helpless, Dean got into this mind-set that he should never reveal anything as he'll end up more hurt in the first place.

"Hey Dean, you okay?" asked Jo. She had been one of his best friends since he was a kid and she knew him better than anyone; apart from his dad and Sammy, she was the only one who knew about the whole river incident when he was younger. She may seem like a sweet cookie-cutter blonde but she's tougher than most bikers. And she could throw a punch better. She noticed that Dean wasn't in the party mood, Jo knew it was because of the whole drowning incident that happened, but if Dean felt uncomfortable he shouldn't stay here and torture himself about it.

"Yeah, I'm freakin' peachy." Dean replied, irritation evident in every word.

"Dean, if you wanna go, then go. If you're gonna sit here and mope all night like a little bitch, I will beat you and you know from past experience that my punches leave bruises that last for weeks. _And_ I'll tell my mom not to serve you _anything_." Dean's eyes widened. Jo's mom Ellen, works at the roadhouse, a kind of bar diner in one that serve the most delicious double bacon cheeseburgers known to mankind. Jo really was cruel.

Anyway, Dean's masculinity and pride won and Dean stayed at the party. The river incident happened when he was 7 and he shouldn't be that hung-up about it. It could have happened to anyone, really. Except it didn't. Dean always thought it was ironic that his mom died in a fire and he almost died in the water. Maybe his dad might get impaled on an ice spike or get buried under an avalanche.

Dean was anxious and downed a couple of beers to take the edge off. It was a pitiful solution to his childhood phobia but it was much easier than say, seeing a therapist who charged a butt-load amount of money for asking _and how does that make you feel?_ Dean was pleasantly buzzed after the beers; his anxiety seemed to melt away and so did his inhibitions. There were hot girls and guys around and even though the music could have been better, the party was okay. Or maybe Dean was just really wasted. Jo threw her beer bottle into the river and others, followed suit. One guy was so drunk that he missed and threw the glass bottle at another guy's head. _Great_. Dean didn't even know what happened next but he was doused in water. He was gonna kill the sonofabitch that spilt their drink on him when he realized the water was from the river.

Dean was shaking now, more nerves than him being cold from the water. Horrible flashbacks of Dean when he was seven sprang into his mind, things that he tried so hard to block out. When his dad held him in his arms. How his body felt after his dad gave him CPR. How he was shaking from the cold. Dean realized everyone from the party started to leave, damp and pissed off that their outfits and phones were wet. He was going to leave with Jo when someone called him back.

"Hello, Dean!" Dean turned around to see who was calling his name and internally cringed; Alastair Masters was approaching him. Seriously, this guy gave Dean the creeps and Dean had only met him a couple of times before. Jo raised her eyebrow in a silent question._ Do you want me to kick him in the nuts for you? _Dean shook his head; he could handle this by himself.

"I'm good Jo. I'll see you later."

"How are you going to get home? You're not driving the Impala this state." She raised an eyebrow

"Unlike you, I can handle my beer," Dean said with a smirk. "Besides, I could always call a cab."

Dean watched as Jo shrugged and waved goodbye as she stumbled along, soaking wet, away from the riverbank and putting more distance between her and Dean. He reluctantly headed over to Alastair. It was then when Dean realized that he and that creep were the only people left at the riverbank.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," Alastair said, with his creepy nasally voice that always seemed to grate on Dean's nerves. His watery blue eyes focused on Dean. Or to be exact, Dean's body. "You look so pretty, all dripping wet and shivering." Alastair's voice took on a desperate tone, filled with want and desire.

"You look so cold, Dean. I'm gonna warm you up," Alastair said, inching closer and closer to the Winchester. Dean shuddered. He was used to getting hit on, but the way Alastair said the words made Dean feel uneasy and nauseous. Dean's mind was foggy, too many beers drowned out any coherent and logical thoughts. He was having enough trouble standing up.

"Go away Alastair, I'm not in the mood." Dean muttered, hoping that it would be an acceptable brush off.

"Oh, but Dean. You look so cold. Let me make you feel hot. _Hot and dirty._" And then, without any warning, Alastair pinned Dean to the hard earth, his rough, calloused hands gripped Dean's wrists to make sure Dean didn't throw any punches. Dean tried to move up but Alastair's knees were pressing into Dean's shoulders, effectively making sure that Dean wouldn't escape.

Dean heard his jaw crack before he felt it. White hot pain flared on his cheek, Alastair brought down his fist again and more pain blossomed on the Winchester's stomach. Dean felt a weight on his chest and he couldn't breathe, he felt as if he was drowning again. A blow to his eye and effectively swelling it shut. He could taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth and spat it at Alastair, who then lapped at Dean's blood and actually _moaned._

"Dean, Dean, you taste so good, I can't wait to taste the rest of you."

Alastair forcefully pushed his mouth onto Dean's, practically sucking the blood from Dean's cut on his lip. Dean's lips were stinging and his teeth were hurting from the amount of pressure Alastair put on his kisses. Feeling Alastair's hot breath in Dean's mouth made the Winchester feel sick. Alastair then proceeded to grab the waistband of Dean's jeans and boxers and pulled them down. Dean tried to fight Alastair off, but he was drunk and disorientated from the blows that Alastair managed to put on him, so his body was too slow and sluggish to retaliate. The cold air hit Dean's legs and he whimpered when he felt Alastair's cold hands tightly gripping his cock. Dean moaned, but not in pleasure. He felt water spray his body again and shivers were racking his body. He heard Alastair take off his trousers before he settled on top of Dean again. Dean closed his eyes, not bearing to look at what would happen to him. He felt Alastair's hands roughly grab Dean's ass and ground down onto Dean. Dean tried screaming for someone, anyone to help him. His voice was going rough and hoarse with the strain.

Then the heavy weight of Alastair vanished. Dean had braced himself for a punch or kick or a thrust into his body, but it never came. Dean looked out of his good eye, everything was blurry but he managed to see Alastair on the ground. There was a man on top of him, straddling Alastair's body and grabbing his neck and then twisted. _Hard_. Dean saw Alastair jerk his legs and then stop moving. Dean was afraid, panicked breaths hurt his chest but he couldn't stop. Would this guy do that to him? End his life with a twist of his hands? The man turned around and _ohholycrap _Dean felt terrified. The guy had a murderous look on his face but the moment he saw Dean his look softened into one of disbelief.

The man slowly and stiffly walked over to Dean and that's when Dean noticed the guy's outfit. He dressed as if he was from the freakin' 1800's or from these nerdy Victorian shows Sammy used to watch. Did the guy think this party was a costume one? The closer the man got, the more Dean could make out his features. He had crazy dark hair, with a straight nose and nice thick pink lips surrounded by a five o'clock shadow. This guy seemed like Dean's type, minus the killing. But it was until the man crouched down, almost warily, as if trying not to spook an injured animal, when Dean saw his eyes. His eyes were a vivid electric blue and even in the dark they seemed to blaze, compared to Alastair's, who eyes were a pale imitation. Dean had never been to the sea before, but this man's eyes reminded him of the glistening ocean. Everything in Dean's vision was hazy apart from the dark-haired man and his beautiful eyes.

"Hello, Dean."

"How d'ya know my name?" Dean asked, his voice sounded foreign to his own ears; his tongue felt thick and slow, probably due to the alcohol and the fact he got repeatedly punched on the mouth.

"Dean, you are hurt." The guy said, completely ignoring Dean's question. His concentrated gaze scanned Dean's body, not like Alastair's leer, but more checking to see if Dean was okay. As if Dean was his top priority. The man deftly touched Dean's chest with his long nimble fingers, treating Dean like he was fragile and was about to break under the slightest amount of pressure.

"I'm fine! Leave me alone." Dean didn't need some random guy helping him out and he didn't want anybody to touch him after what just happened. He batted the guy's hand away and tried to move away from him. Dean's chest protested and pained like a sonofabitch and then Dean realized he had a cracked rib. He tried not to move but even breathing pained him. In fact, every part of Dean's body was sore and there wasn't one part of his body that didn't hurt.

"If you wanna help me, call the freakin' ambulance." The Winchester muttered through gritted teeth. He was in inscrutable pain but he wasn't gonna show it. His dad had drilled that lesson into him countless times: _You can't let people see you hurt otherwise_ _they'll think you're weak, Dean. They'll take advantage of you and nobody screws the Winchesters around. _

But sometimes, Dean wanted people to see he was hurt, to see that he was not okay, and to have someone take care of him and not worry about the consequences.

"Dean, let me help you." Blue-eyes said, sincerity in his voice.

So this time, when blue-eyes held his hand out and gently cupped Dean's cheek, Dean didn't pull away. His palm was soft and warm on Dean's jaw and he leaned in to the touch. If Dean turned his head oh-so-slightly, his lips would be brushing his palm. It felt nice and pleasant and Dean realized how much he craved the warmth and comfort of another person. What they were doing was completely innocent and chaste yet it felt so intimate. It felt more comfortable than Dean's endless list of one-night stands. Blue-eyes looked at Dean like he was the center of his world. They stayed like that for several minutes and with each passing second, Dean felt the pain slip away. His cut on his lip stopped bleeding. There was no pain that was plaguing his body anymore and even his mind felt clearer and sober.

And that's when Dean realized what happened.

He had been beaten and almost raped, and this guy killed Alastair as easily as killing a fly. And Dean was letting this guy near him with no resistance.

_"_Who are you?" Dean asked. Panic and anger crept into his voice. At the drop of a hat, Dean could go from gentle to cruel, it was something his father taught him and Dean resented him for that.

"My name is Castiel." Blue-eyes stated.

"You killed him. Alastair. You broke his neck." Dean's voice was trembling now, he was terrified. What would this Castiel guy to him?

"He was harming you, Dean. I wanted you to be safe. He had hurt others before and you wouldn't have been the last." Castiel said, with so much protective fierceness for the Winchester boy. He hoped Dean could feel love and adoration in every word.

But apparently it was the wrong thing to say. Dean looked spooked, as if he was uncomfortable with people admitting their true feelings. Then Dean looked angered.

"_Fuck. You_." Was all Dean said before he turned on his heel and ran, not bothering to turn his head to see if Castiel followed.

Dean sprinted so hard to the impala, his mind going over the conversation that had happened between him and Castiel. Before, the "drunk" Dean thought that Castiel killing a guy for him made Dean special. God, Dean is more messed up than he thought he was. That Castiel guy had just killed a man and Dean let Castiel hold him. Why does he always attract the psychotic ones?

Dean kept on running until his muscles were burning. It wasn't until then that Dean realized what happened and stopped in his tracks. Dean was supposed to have damaged his ribs earlier, when Alastair kicked him in the chest but they didn't pain him again, even when he was sprinting. Hesitantly, Dean lifted up his top, expecting bruises and scrapes, so Dean was surprised when he looked at his smooth, tanned skin and that there were none. Not even a scratch.

**A/N: Oooh Cas isn't a river anymore. Next chapter will explain all. **


End file.
